


Draco Malfoy: King of the World

by EvilSenpai



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Auror Harry, Draco King of the World AU, Draco is gay, Drarry, Gay, Gay Harry, Harry is gay, King draco, M/M, Pocket Watches, Prince Draco, Ron is still here, Waistcoats, hermione is coming later, highly fashionable Draco, many suits, prince - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-03-30 16:03:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13955100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilSenpai/pseuds/EvilSenpai
Summary: Draco Malfoy, heir to the throne of the world, is going to become king after his father's sudden death, and when Harry goes undercover as an Auror to gather information on him, he becomes Malfoy's servant. He expects a cold, cruel-hearted overlord, like the generations of rulers before him, but is pleasantly surprised by the much warmer side of Draco's personality.





	1. The Funeral

**Author's Note:**

> It's a pretty short chapter, but I just wanted to introduce you guys to the story, and if I get positive feedback I'll write more, and (hopefully) longer chapters.

With a set jaw, and a steely gaze, the young heir looks over his father’s casket. He casts a glance at his mother to his right and takes her hand. Staring at the cold dead body in front of him, he feels nothing, while Narcissa softly weeps. He’d never experienced many fond memories with Lucius, but it pains him to see his mother cry.

Giving her hand a final squeeze, he turns away from the coffin. Slowly, in a respectful manner, Draco makes his way out of the room of government officials who are only pretending to mourn the loss of Lucius Malfoy. As he slips out of the door, a figure about two inches shorter than him slams into his chest. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry-“ the man says, backing up, rubbing his eyes. When he opens them he falters, and takes another step back. Then, he bows slightly. “Prince Malfoy, I apologize for running into you.”

”No apology needed, Potter. I should’ve watched where I was going.” Draco attempts at a polite smile. Harry nods in return and holds open the door for the Prince to come through. “Thank you,” and Harry stares after him as he walks away. 

**Harry’s Point of View**

I know there’s no set time for people to arrive at a funeral, but Merlin, do I feel late. All the other officials and Aurors will have already gotten there. I quickly make my way down the marble-floored halls, barely taking in the magnificence of the space around me. 

Soon, I approach the door to the room where the coffin is being held and attempt to go through it, before brutally smashing my face against a man’s chest. I get knocked back a bit and rub my eyes. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry-“ I take a step back before opening my eyes and when I do I hesitate. It’s Prince Draco. God, is he attractive. Oh shut up, you gay brain. I am supposed to begin investigating him soon, I can’t be having these thoughts about him. I compose myself and bow half heartedly. “Prince Malfoy, I apologize for running into you.”

”No apology needed, Potter.” My heart thumps loudly when I hear him say my name. I wonder how he remembers it, we’ve only met one other time. “I should’ve watched where I was going.” The politeness of his statement surprises me, considering his reputation of being cold, but I suppose it’s all in the name of diplomacy. I pull the door open for him and he thanks me. As he walks down the well-decorated hallway I stare after him, both calculating his actions, and admiring his good looks. Then, reminding myself of my job, I step through the open doorway and greet fellow aurors in the gloomy room.

Kingsley Shacklebolt approaches me after the service discreetly, just barely slipping by me. 

“My office, 5 o’clock tonight.” And then he floats right past.

Upon returning to my flat, I sit on the sofa enjoying a cup of tea, waiting for my meeting with Kingsley. The clock ticks by very  _ very _ much too slowly for my taste, so I turn to the scariest place I know, my thoughts.

I wonder why Prince Draco left his father’s funeral so early, and only popped up for a few minutes of the service. It seems kind of disrespectful to do that to your parent, much less the king. Ah,  _ king _ . Something that Malfoy would soon be. It certainly is a strange thought, to have a new King of the world after such a long time only having one. But I suppose that’s just the natural order of things. One dies, and you move onto the next. 

I wish the royals didn’t pretty much only come from the Malfoy line though. They’re a bit too... pure-blooded for my taste. Cold and rich and conniving. They aren’t friends to the people.

Everyone’s hoping that Draco will be different from his father and his grandfather before him in that regard, which is exactly why I’m going to be investigating him soon. Before he takes the crown in six months, the Aurors and other government officials want to know exactly what to expect from him. They want to know all of his secrets, his plans, and who he wishes to take as his queen. I don’t know the exact details of the case, but I’m sure that’s what Kingsley wants to talk about tonight.

__ I pull on my shoes and fumble over to the floo. Tossing down the powder, I shout out the words and find myself transported to Kingsley’s office. I stumble out of the fireplace and right into a carefully placed chair.

“Welcome, Potter,” greets Kingsley.

“Hey Mr. Shacklebolt!”

“I assume you know why you’re here?”

“Something to do with the case investigating Draco Malfoy.”  
“Yes, exactly. I have decided what I want your position in this case to be. Obviously I want you to be in the front, and so what I will need you to do is act as his servant for the next six months.” My mouth hangs open.

“I’m sorry- _what_?”

“You’ll need to be his servant. We’ve already secured a position in his chambers for you, and it will be quite easy. Just give him what he needs, and try and gain information in return.”

“I- but I-”

“No ‘buts’, Potter, this is where we need you.” I groan in exasperation.

“Fine..”

“You are dismissed.” I stand up and make my over to the floo.

“Goodnight, Kingsley.”

“Goodnight, servant boy.” He laughs in humor as I glare angrily in the fireplace, disappearing into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m a thot for comments so if you have any constructive criticism or just comments feel free to leave either.


	2. First Day

I grumble to myself as I shove the last of my things into my suitcase. 

“Can’t believe Kingsley. Old sod.” Sitting on top of my suitcase, I wrestle with the zipper, and finally (after much effort) I manage to get it closed.

The floo on my fireplace mantle seems to taunt me, telling me I have to be a  _servant_ while it’s here enjoying a nice relaxing life. But of course, it’s just powder and I’m being ridiculous. 

I grab a handful and smash it onto the ground, little particles bouncing off of my suitcase. “Malfoy Palace.”  _Whoosh_. 

Stepping out of the fireplace in the Palace I can’t help but gaze at everything in amazement. And this is only the entrance hall. My eyes widen at the glittering chandelier with lights that look like crystal raindrops, the beautiful mahogany wood floors with an elegant green carpet, and the pretty frickin’ AWESOME suits of armour to my left and right. I can’t believe in all of my author work, I’ve never been here.

While staring up at the space around me, I don’t notice the footsteps approaching until a light finger taps me on the shoulder. Startled, I let it an embarrassing yelp. I quickly smooth down my robes in hope to regain my composure. A well-dressed man with dark skin stands in front of me, with gold rimmed glasses and a file with papers. 

“You must be Mr. Potter.” The man says in a heavy French accent. “Welcome to Malfoy Palace, let me show you The way.” He turns and begins walking before I can process what he’s said, and I speed to catch up to him. Staring straight ahead he begins telling me about the duties I have to perform. “You are expected every morning at 9 AM in Prince Malfoy’s chamber with breakfast from the kitchen, and from there he will instruct you to whatever he wishes until he retires to bed later at night. You are to never leave his side unless instructed to do so, or unless at a public event, where you will stand three to four meters behind his bodyguards. He will be-“

”Excuse me, sir, sorry. But er- how many public events does he attend each week, just so I know what to expect?” The unnamed French man nods as though I’ve asked a smart question, and he begins to respond as we take a sharp left down stone spiral stairs in an alcove.

”He goes to an average of three each week, although I expect there to be weeks with many more as time progresses, as his coronation is coming up in a matter of months.”

”Thank you.” I manage to say before he continues speaking.

”Now as I was saying, Prince Malfoy will likely be asking you to assist in choosing outfits for him to wear, and fetching him food or people for him. You will definitively have to draw baths for him and clean his room alongside his maid every few days, as well as staying by him in the throne room for assistance.” “Okay.” 

We reach the bottom of the stairs where we take a right where we reach a room full of fabrics and mannequins and, gosh, sequins. Sequins everywhere. The French man smiled slyly and says to me, “Mr. Potter, I believe you’re in need of a bit of... wardrobe assistance. You’re clothes will not be allowed unless you have personal time.” I stare at him for a second until I realize that he’s not kidding, I actually have to wear these fancy clothes to just be a servant. He gives me a little push into the room where a man is leaning over a sketching table. He’s dressed in simple black dress pants and a white shirt which I can tell is slightly unbuttoned at be top, his caramel hair is a right mess, but still looks good somehow.

Mr. French Man clears his throat and the man turns to look at us, and wow, is he handsome. He’s of some obvious Asian descent and old fashioned glasses hang low on the bridge of his nose. He looks like a model from a Gucci ad, except wearing much classier clothes. He smiles at me and walks around.

”Hello, I’m Kai, personal designer to, well, everyone in this palace, it’s nice to meet you...” He extends a hand and I firmly grasp it (A/N ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)), telling him my name. It’s nice to have an actual introduction, before jumping into things, unlike Mr.-

“Bastién, good to see you as always.” Kai hugs the now named French men, and he looks highly disgusted at his greeting. “Now, let’s get down to business. You, Harry, need a whole new look. This whole drab t-shirts and jeans looks is simply not good enough for the Prince. In the slightest.” He walks around me in a circle scanning my body and I can feel myself blush. “Alright, I’ve got a few ideas.” Bastién nods approvingly and excuses himself. 

Kai tells me to sit down on a sofa as he pulls out a long rack of clothes, which all look equally fancy, but luckily no sequins. “Ron!” He calls out. A flaming red-haired man comes out from behind the wall across from where I’m seated. 

“Yeah?” He asks as I stare at him and his many freckles.

”Come help me choose some outfits for Mr. Potter here, he’s to be the new servant for the Prince.” Kai says, with most of his attention on flipping though hangers from the rack. 

“Ok.” Ron crosses over to us, moving in and out through many piles of clothes and tables. He glances at the clothes before stumbling over to me and reaching out a hand. “Nice to meet you mate, I’m Ron Weasley.”

”Harry Potter.” I grin at him and his slightly disheveled manner. 

“Let’s jump into this guys.” Kai says through a wall of clothes and from there we take an hour picking outfits for me.

I step out of the doorway of the room, a paper bag of outfits in one hand and waving with the other. 

“Bye, thanks! See you later mates!”

”See ya.” Ron says before spilling tea on himself and groaning.

I walk down the hallway and back up the stone stairs I came down before, as instructed to do so by Kai. He had to give me instructions since Bastién disappeared without a word. Or a map. 

I make my way to my room silently and quickly, and notice it seems to be right next to Prince Malfoy’s room. How convenient. I was scheduled to meet “His Majesty”, as Kai put it, at noon in his room, which it was now, so I threw my clothes and my suitcase on the bed without glancing at the room and went to knock on his door.

It opened up and I swallowed nervously. I’ve got this. The Prince comes out dressed in silk green robes and I inhale deeply. 

”Hello.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s another short chapter but I promise he’ll do actual work and meet Draco in the next chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to readers, although Harry is not “The Savior” or chosen one, the events of his childhood remain the same, his parents being murdered and him being a wizard and being shunned by his aunt and uncle. During his years in Hogwarts he did not become friends with Ron but he did become friends with Hermione. Voldemort does not exist in this universe either. Also, wizards and muggles are living in harmony since everyone is brought together under one rule.

“Ah, Mr. Potter,” Malloy grins slyly, “Here to be my servant. Now that was unexpected.”

”Well, I decided that I had a good run as an auror, it was time to take my services elsewhere. And I’m sure I can do some good for you.” I bounce back and forth on my heels uneasily.

”I’m sure you can.” He turns and walks into the bedroom, leaving me standing there and staring like an idiot. “Come on, Potter.” Right. I should’ve known to follow him. He leads me into an extravagant closet. Clothes line the walls and in the center of the room is an island with rows of shoes.

“Wow, maybe if my closet was like this I wouldn’t be so scarred.” I mutter to myself.

“Huh?”

”Nothing.” 

To my right, nudged in the corner, are drawers, which I’m assuming contain ties, based on the silky fabric peeking through a slight opening. A space underneath the drawers was open for two decent looking baskets which held underwear and a lot of socks. So many socks. I notice many wild socks, with ducks and snakes and such. That’s kinda cute. 

The Prince clears his throat and my attention is brought back to him. “I need you to pick out an outfit for me which I will be wearing later tonight at a dinner. I have to be at the height of good fashion because ambassadors from each country will be dining with me in order to introduce themselves since I am to become their king soon. I will be in my room.” he said exiting the closet. “Good luck!” 

I look through the clothes and feel the fabrics. They’re all so soft. Considering this is a fancy event, robes would be more acceptable, although considering most ambassadors are muggles, perhaps a mix of the two lifestyles would be better. I pick out a black suit with your every day white dress shirt, and pair it with a Slytherin green tie. Prince Malfoy took specialized private classes at Hogwarts the year I attended but they allowed him to be sorted by the Sorting Hat anyway, and for obvious reasons he’s a Slytherin. To add a bit of pizzazz I throw in silver socks, and a long, elegant, emerald green cape. I carry it out into the Prince’s bedroom and lay it on his bed where he also lay. 

“Thank you, this looks wonderful. I like the socks.” He grins at me and stands, sorting the different articles of clothing out on his bed. Then he reaches to untie his robe and I stand there awkwardly. 

“Um, should I step out?” He looks at me in confusion. 

“No, it’s fine. My servants and maids see me change all the time, you can just sit over there if you want.” He gestures towards a comfy looking sofa and I go over and plop down onto it. He slips off his robe and hangs it on the post of his bed. He then begins to take off the rest of his clothing and I start to feel uncomfortable. It’s kinda weird to just sit here and watch. Instead I look down at my lap and play with my hands.

After a few minutes he tells me I can stop being awkward and that he’s done changing. I look up as he turns away from the mirror on his bedside table and I am completely astounded. He looks so elegant and powerful, and quite beautiful if I must say. The cape cascades from his shoulder to the ground, and with the addition of the matching tie the whole outfit seems to just come together. 

“This is a wonderful outfit you put together here. I’m quite impressed.”

”Thank you, Prince Malfoy.”

”Please, call me Draco.” My surprise must show because he says, “I’m not as bad as people think you know, I just prefer to naintain a professional, albeit cold, persona in front of the press and other leaders.” 

“Oh, okay.” I gave him a half smile. I really don’t think there’s much information to dig up on this guy. I think he’ll make an excellent king. But nonetheless I will have to look best as possible. “Now, I believe you have to wear a crown of sorts, right?”

”Yes, oh this is the most exciting part. Come see.” He leads me into the closet once again and stands over the island with shoes in the sides. He presses down his hand on the surface and it ripples with a blue wave of magic. A large rectangle seems to disappear from the surface and three crowns appear, sat upon soft velvet. “Normally I don’t get to wear crowns, but when ambassadors come to greet future kings it’s customary that they wear one. I’ve only worn these a few times over my life, for royal marriages and such. So... which one should I wear?” I take a look at the three options and end up deciding on a modest silver crown with little emerald gems in it. Perfect for the outfit. I pick it up gently and hold it out to him. “Usually I have someone put it on for me, would you please?” I nod and he runs his hand through his stunningly blond hair. I place it on his head and move around a few misplaced strands of what is possible the softest, most delicate hair, I have ever touched. “Thank you.” I nod slightly with a small grin. He moves to exit the room and I step aside for him, then following behind him. Beneath windows with long flowing curtains is a desk with a jewelry box on it beside a mirror. He opens the top drawer and pulls out a leather watch with a white face. The face he makes at it is of distaste. Something I would even go to call disgust. 

“Do you not like your watch?” He stares at it.

”It was my father’s. My mother insists that I wear it.” He (not-so-gently) attaches it to his wrist. 

“Well, then shouldn’t it mean something to you?”

”No,” he looks up at me with an angry face. “Not if he means nothing to me.” He dramatically walks past me and leaves the room.  _Weird._

I hurry after him after processing what had just happened and see him descending a flight of luxurious stairs. Behind him I am careful not to step on the trail behind his cape. I almost stumble into him when he suddenly stops and turns around to look at me. 

“Do you like to read?” 

“What?”

”Let’s go to the library.” And he just keeps on walking. Why does everyone just walk away with no explanation here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this chapter. I’m a thot for comments by the way.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m a thot for comments.  
> -Senpai

Prince Draco and I spent the rest of the afternoon wandering through the most magnificent library, probably bigger than the one at Hogwarts. Hermione would have an absolute ball in here. I can see her and the Prince getting along nicely. 

The Prince stacks up a few of his favorites which he “insists” that I read. The first one he throws on the pile is The Count of Monte Cristo, which looks like a right heavy book. Sounds interesting enough though.

Prince Draco just goes on and on about this book so hopefully I don’t get too lost, what with the French prisons and murder. While he is explaining this book he also flips through some others and chooses four more for me to read. The Hobbit, which I’ve read before but he wants me to read  _again._ Night by Elie Wiesel, which is by a man who lived through the Holocaust. It was a muggle affair but definitely a devastating one, so I’m sure I will end up crying reading this one. He also gave me the COMPLETE FRICKIN’ WORKS OF SHAKESPEARE. THE WHOLE THING, along with War and Peace. Just some LIGHT READING, EH?

Blasted bugger. I shouldn’t call him that but I just. I can’t. We haul the books back to my room and toss them on the bed, and by then it’s nearly time for the dinner. Which means I also have to get dressed. Wonderful. The Prince throws himself on the empty space on my bed and taps an outfit from the pile I put there earlier. It’s an elegant charcoal suit with a matching waistcoat and black shirt. 

“This is definitely the one to go with.” I look at him and back at the suit unsure, but nonetheless I pick it up and go into the bathroom across the room. I strip and re-clothe myself before stepping back into the room, but not before sliding on a pair of black dress shoes that were placed on the bathroom counter, and running a hand through my messy hair. 

Malfoy whistles when he sees me. “Wow, you clean up nicely.” I look down at my feet blushing. “Oh come on, don’t be shy, confidence is key. Pick your head up.” I do as he tells me and walk over to the bed, examining a few of the ties I was given under the scrutinizing eye of the Prince. “You should where the emerald one.”

”But... it would match yours, and that would draw more attention to me,” I advise, as though this is obvious. 

“I don’t mind, I’ve always had all of the attention, it’s just one night. Plus it would look best with your ensemble.” Eyeing him, I snatch up the tie and throw it around my neck, snapping the collar of my dress shirt. My hands go to the uneven sides and I realize. I have no clue how to tie this. No one’s ever taught me this. Now I’ll look like a fool. “Don’t know how to tie it, eh?” He grins at me, clearly amused. I shake my head and he stands up to face me. Only an inch or two separated our heights, me being shorter.

Reaching his hands to the shimmering silk he instructs me on basic tying. He stand very close to me and I can feel his hot breath against my skin. His eyes remain on the tie but mine are glued to him. Some locks of his hair have fallen out of place and dangle on his forehead. I reach up and brush them back lightly and I feel his hands hesitate. He looks me in the eye curiously.

”You just had a few strands of hair in your face.” He nods and gazed intently back at the tie. When he finishes he unbuttons my vest and smoothes the tie over my chest. I swallow and take a breath, this is much too close for comfort. He buttons the waistcoat back over over it and then buttons my jacket. Then his eyes find mine again. They seem to bore into my soul, the grey seeping into every corner it can find. Suddenly and quietly he says, “You need to brush your hair.” 

Moving away from me he goes to sit back on the bed, and shoos me away to the bathroom. A selection of brushes and combs are found in one drawer of the counter and I pick the biggest brush possible. Then I gently push it through my hair, hoping not to rip it all out. After a minute I look at myself and think it’s good enough. Alrhough maybe I should take off my glasses, to be more official looking. I pull them off and pull out my wand, tapping my nose. My vision clears and I take another look at myself. I normally hate to say I look great, but I look great. The only problem is the little lightning shaped scar on my forehead, a product of some mad wizard who tried to kill me, but instead killed my mum and dad. I look away from the mirror and my hideous scar and walk out into the bedroom. The Prince stands when he sees me and gives me a nod. “It’s time to go.” We leave the room together and I follow him to the stairs.

”So is this one of those public events where I have to stand behind your bodyguards the whole time?” Descending the stairs gracefully beside me, he looks straight ahead. 

“No, in fact you will be seated next to me at dinner.” Oh. Well okay then. I can’t wait for that.

As we reach the final step I look over at the Prince and the alarms go off in my head. What used to be a warm smile and kind eyes is now replaced by a cold look. His eyes seem to burn with ambition and elegance and something else. Something I can’t quite place. He looked like his father’s son. Based on the earlier interaction about his father, he might disagree. He seems to dislike the late King. That could be a good sign for the world, and that’s definitely something I should report back to Kingsley.

He folds his hands behind his back as he enters the extravangant dining room. I’m talking chandelier and all. There are two empty seats at the head of the long dining table which I spot as where we’ll sit. The Prince takes his please behind the chair at head of the table and the ambassadors rise. He nods at them and they seat themselves again. He looks at me to take a seat and I do, him remaining the only one standing. A fake smile passes over his face, although I’m sure I’m the only one who notices it is such, and he greets everyone. 

“Good evening everyone, thank you for traveling here from your various countries to meet with me...” I begin to space him out and take a look around the room. There are at least 190 people here, most of which are dressed in primarily muggle clothing. The woman across from me has a name tag labeled Saudi Arabia and a beautifully decorated headscarf with lilies presides on her head. The man next to her is from Germany and he looks as stoic as I could imagine anyone looking. The many other people seated look very well diverse, the ambassador from Thailand even having a little rainbow pin on his lapel.  It was quite refreshing. 

Soon enough the Prince’s speech is finished and food is delivered to the table. This food is as plentiful as the meals from Hogwarts, it’s amazing. I dig right in. 

* * *

 

**Draco’s POV**

As soon as dinner is served I relax slightly, although I still must remain alert and forward. I keep my facial expressions still and unwavering. As I politely eat my salad and chicken, I look over at Potter. He’s an absolute mess. He’s eating like it’s the last plate of food he’ll ever get. Was he raised in a barn or something?

I gently touch his arm and he looks up at me with food in his mouth.

”Yes?” He says, a bit of lettuce hanging from his lip. I nearly break my facade and chuckle. But I don’t.

”Would it kill you to eat a bit slower? And politely?” He quickly swallows what’s in his mouth and I watch his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing.  _Stop._ I avert my eyes back to his.

”Sorry, sir.” He fumbles on his words and stares at his plate. 

“Draco,” I remind him. 

“Right, sorry  _Draco._ It’s just really good I guess.” He glances at my hand still on his arm and I retreat.

”That’s no excuse to act like you were never fed.” His eyes widen and he looks up at me, an unreadable emotion in his eyes. 

“Right.” He turns away from me his body slumping a bit, and he crosses his legs. I take a second to consider this, but my attention is quickly taken by the woman sitting to my left.

”Ah, Mrs. Aima,” I greet her and she responds pleasantly, beginning to talk about work in Saudi Arabia which she would love for me to give some input on. Her work is interesting enough but I can’t help but find myself continually glancing at Mr. Potter, who is now looking at his plate like he’s going to be sick and only drinking champagne, with the occasional sip of water. 

“I’m sorry ma’am, I do enjoy hearing about your education initiative for girls schools, but would you excuse me for a moment?”

”Yes, of course your Majesty.” A slight chill runs through me as she addresses me as though I’m already king, but it doesn’t show and I turn my attention back to Harry. I grab his upper arm and pull him towards me so I can whisper in his ear. 

“Are you okay?” He only nods. “Are you sure about that? You look a bit sick.”

”I’m fine, I’m going to use the restroom.” He pulls away from me and stands, leaving the table unnoticed by everyone but me. Although I’m sure everyone notices when I rise to to go after him. I wave them as to tell them to continue without me and I follow the sickly man. 

I really shouldn’t be following him. I shouldn’t take this much interest in my servant. He said he was fine. Although I have a hard time believing that. 

He enters the restroom that is no less than fifty feet from the dining room and I run in after him. He locks himself in a stall before I can push in after him and I stand there angrily. Rapidly and sharply, my knuckles knock against the door. 

“Potter!”

”Please leave me alone,” he groans.

”Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

”Nothing, I just feel a bit sick.”

”No kidding, you’ve downed at least three glasses of champagne in the past half hour. What I want to know is why.”

”I’m FINE!” He shouts as me through the door. I am taken aback. No one has ever shouted at me with that intensity, much less a servant. 

“I order you to remove yourself from the stall.”

”Oh please, who died and made you ki-“ I find myself staring at the door blankly until it slowly opens, revealing an ashamed looking Potter. “I’m... uh. Sorry.”

”It’s okay. I hope you feel better.” I exit the room and returning to dining with my guest, Harry taking his place next to me a few minutes later.

We don’t talk the rest of the night, even when he draws me my bath after dinner, and we part ways without a word. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did you feel about switching perspectives? Should I do it more?


	5. Chapter 5

My eyelids flutter open the next morning with such ease, that you’d think I hadn’t shut them at all. Which, for most of the night, I didn’t. 

I barely slept. I stare at the ceiling and I can feel the bags beneath my eyes. Sighing, I roll out of bed and stumble over to the dresser that now held my new clothes. 

My eyes glaze over as I stare at the outfits. I can’t focus on anything but what I said to the Prince yesterday. Shame courses through my body and I shake my head, attempting to expel the emotions. Grabbing an outfit at random, I drag myself to the bathroom and get dressed. Then, glancing at the clock which reads 8:30, I run out of the room and down to the kitchen. 

It’s quite a large room, with pots and pans hanging from hooks and dozens of chefs everywhere. A tall stern-looking woman nods to me and tells me that the Prince’s breakfast will be ready in a moment. 

I sit at a counter to wait and stare at the wall, a blank feeling seeping through my body and numbing me.  _Not now_. Suddenly an iciness that can only be named Depression is draped over me like a blanket. I was diagnosed a few years after leaving Hogwarts, and I can’t say I’m surprised, after my troubling childhood. But I need I need to push through this and do my job. It might make me feel like crap but after last night, not much more could make me feel worse. 

A short plump woman with red hair nudges me with something and I look over to her. She hands me a tray full of food, along with a little brown bag. 

“A little something for you dear, we don’t need you starving.” A warm smile brightens her face.

”Thank you.”

”It’s no problem. I’m Molly.”

”Harry.” I nod at her and leave the kitchen, wooden tray in hand. Making my way back up to the Prince’s room I feel slow. Every step is a fight to not sit down and lay there. 

Finally, I reach Malfoy’s chamber and try to balance the breakfast tray on my knee while pushing open the door with my free hand. I enter slowly and push the tray on his bedside table. Then, I take a look at the sleeping beauty. 

His head rests against a fluffed pillow, his lips slightly parted. He looks so peaceful. I hate to wake him. But sadly I have to. And of course, it will be awkward when I do. 

I gently nudge him and pull the blankets off of his chest. 

“Mr. Malfoy, it’s time to wake up.” He lets out a soft groan and moves ever so slightly. His eyelashes quiver before opening to look up at me. He squints and glares and sits up quickly. I transfer the tray to his lap and stand to attention by his bed. 

“Today I’ll be doing dance lessons for the coronation ball and the many balls that I’m sure will pop up, so I need something that I would dance in at an event like that,” he says, not meeting my eye  

”Yes, sir.” I make my way over to his closet and switch on the lights. I pick out a simple black suit and carry it back into his room. 

Amazingly, he’s already finished his breakfast. Standing next to his bed, he slips off his night robe and begins to get dressed. I snatch up my brown bag and sit on the ground. On the opposite side of the bed. I pull out a beautifully crisp croissant and scarf it down. 

“I’m done, you can look at me.” I rise up and could’ve sworn I heard him murmur prude underneath his breath. 

“What time are your dance lessons?” He glances at his father’s watch. 

“About five minutes,” he responds, and begins walking out the room. These people I swear. 

“Can I have a minute, sir?” I call out after him. He turns to look at me. 

“What for?”

”I need to grab something from my room.” 

“Sure.” He holds his door for me and follows me into my room. I wish he didn’t. I walk over to my bedside table and pull my pill bottle out of the drawer. “What are those?” I dry swallow a pill and shove the container back in harshly. 

“Antidepressants, I forgot to take them this morning.” I glance at him and he opens his mouth to say something but I walk right past him and out the door, cutting off his opportunity. The sound of a door closing follows me along with his footsteps. 

He takes the lead in front of me and together we enter the ballroom. Bastién stands with an iPod in hand at the far end of the room. He bows to Prince Malfoy and greets him. 

“My Prince, it troubles me to say that your instructor is not here today.”

”Oh, okay. Should I just go then.”

”No...” Bastién eyes me. “You will practice with Mr. Potter here.”

”Oh I don’t know about that, I don’t really know how to dance.” I said in a panic. 

“Nonsense, I didn’t know how to either until just a few weeks ago. Let’s do this.” He extends his hand, which I hesitantly take. He leads me to the center of the room and adjusts my body. 

“Okay, keep your feet hip width apart. Yup, exactly like that. Shoulder distance away from me. Put your hand on my shoulder.” He slides his arm around to my back and pulls me a bit closer. Intertwining our hands together he nods at Bastién. “This is a simple waltz, just follow me.” The music begins, blasting from the iPod with a quick sonorus, and we start moving. We fall into step together and I look up at him instead of my feet. 

“I’m not angry at you, ya know, it was an honest mistake,” he says quietly to me.

”No, I was so insensitive. I’m sorry for that.”

”I wasn’t a huge fan of my father, so it didn’t hurt me like you might think.” Ah, we’re getting close to good information here. I’ll have to write this in my report to Kingsley.

”Why didn’t you like him?”

”He was cruel to me, and he was cold. He  said terrible things to me about-“ he choked on his words and averted his eyes.

”What would he say to you?”

”He’d insult me on my plans for who to take as my queen.”

”Well what is your plan?” 

“That I don’t intend to take one.” I nearly stumble but he catches me and I stare st him.

”Why not?” He looks me directly in the eye and his grey eyes pierce into me.

”I’m gay.” My body nearly comes to a full halt. He’s gay. I don’t think I can tell Kingsley that. That’s... so personal. Especially to a prince. I now feel like I’m invading his privacy.

”I’m not surprised,” I hear myself say, in an attempt to lighten the mood. He chuckles and I feel his arm pull me just slightly closer. We exchange no more words for the rest of the time we dance, but it’s a comfortable silence. 

When the song ends he pulls away, and I feel a bit disappointed. 

“Bastién,” he grins. “Tell my instructor that she’ll no longer be needed, I’m fine enough practicing with Potter every other day.” Bastién nods and I feel myself smile sheepishly. Disappointment gone.

 


	6. Chapter 6

After the dancing lessons I whisked away into the Prince’s room and in a whirlwind I find myself leaning back against a wall seductively. But it’s not what you think. 

Draco sits at his easel, telling me to slightly move my head to the right. Next to him sits his paints and brushes.

”Perfect, stay exactly the way you are.”

It does feel a bit strange, to have him gazing at me, trying to catch every detail and line on my face, while all I do is sit here. 

An hour passes. And then another. We are twenty minutes into the third hour when he drops a paintbrush into his water glass and tells me I can stand. My body groans and shudders at the feeling of my muscles no longer being dormant. 

I walk over to the easel and gasp at the painting sitting before me. My fingertips fight the urge to run themselves along the canvas, and they’re left tingling by my sides. The way I’m painted is absolutely sensual. I look over to Draco and find him already looking up at me from his stool. 

“It’s beautiful.”

* * *

 

**Draco’s POV**

_He’s beautiful._

I tear my eyes away from Harry’s gaze and grab the cup full of water and finely crafted brushes. Stepping into my bathroom, I run warm water in the sink, dumping the colorful water down the drain with it. I clean my brushes and leave them on a towel on a counter, and return to my bedroom. 

Harry is sitting on my stool, just staring at what I’ve created. I wonder what he’s thinking right now, looking at the seductive way he tilts his head back, revealing his neck, his hair in just the right place. His eyes, just nearly closed as though someone is running their hands down his sides. Sadly I can’t possibly know what he’s thinking, but I know what I am.

I approach him from behind, my hands settling on his shoulders, and I lean my head down to his ear. 

“I know I said you could have this one, but would you mind if I kept it?” I feel him shiver beneath me. 

“I wouldn’t mind,” he says breathily. I smile and my lip barely grazes the spot right beneath his ear. 

“Wonderful.” I pull away quickly, almost in a taunting manner for his obvious desire, and stroll towards the door. “Time for dinner.” My eyes slide towards him as I leave the room and see him stumbling after me, eyes wide. A smirk crosses my face, as I realize this is why I’m always losing servants. I manipulate their minds. Harry’s different from the rest of them though. I think I might actually like him. 

“Keep up, Potter.” His feet shuffle faster and he falls into step next to me as we descend the staircase. “It’s just us for dinner tonight,” I tell him. He nods and we enter the dining room. 

Dinner finishes up quickly and Harry follows me back to my room.

“Can you draw a bath for me?”

”Yep.” I pick up my silk robe from my bed and head into the bathroom. Harry comes out as I go in and he flings himself onto my bed. I shut the bathroom door behind me and take a nice hot bath. 

When I come out from the bath, muscles soothed and body dripping wet, I grab a towel and dry myself off.  _I forgot to get clothes._ I quickly comb my hair and and go into the bedroom.

Harry is leaning against my pillows with his wand out, making little sparks and lines in the air. When he sees me, his magic turns a fiery red before disappearing. I see his eyes trail over my body as I reach into my dresser for clothing. I swear I see a slight blush creep into his cheeks as I return to the bathroom to dress. 

When I come back out I’m adorned with silk pyjamas and my robe. Harry’s standing beside my bed smoothing down the comforter. When he finishes and I climb into bed, his eyes are intently focused on the floor. 

“Goodnight, Draco,” he says hurriedly leaving the room. 

“Goodnight, Harry.”

* * *

 

**Harry’s POV**

I crawl into my bed and curl up beneath the warm sheets. God that was embarrassing. I’m too shy to see  _anyone_ in that position, much less  _him._ My face still burning, I drift off to sleep.

_Darkness encloses me. I smell dust in the air. My body is huddled into a ball, shaking. What’s going to happen?_

_A bright light is thrust into my eyesight and a large fist drags me by my shirt into the hallway. I’m confronted with a wide purple face, yelling at me, inching closer. The man kicks me and his shouts seem to be coming from underwater._

_Suddenly, I’m drowning. I reach up trying to find the surface but I’m pushed further under. Porcelain surrounds me and I grip the sides, trying to force my way up. A meaty, but smaller hand grips my hair as though trying to rip it from my head. I’m pulled up and I gasp for breath._

_“Please leave me alone. Stop. Please Dudley stop-“_

My body jerks awake with a scream and hot tears run down my face. I grasp into my blanket sobbing. I gasp for air like I did in the dream and it doesn’t help. My chest tightens as I continue crying, each sob seeming to yell for help. I curl up into myself and my door opens. 

“Harry?!” The blond figure approaches me swiftly and climbs into my bed. “Harry...” He reaches a hand to my arm and strokes it comfortingly. I allow myself to fall into his lap, tears still falling from my face. Except now they’re caught by Draco’s silky shirt. He runs his fingers through my hair while his other hand slides across my back. “It’s okay,” he whispers to me. “Everything is fine. It’s going to be fine.” 

As my sobs lessen and all that’s left is dried streaks of tears, I am swallowed whole by Draco’s warmth and fall back into a more pleasant sleep. 

I wake to the sound of birds chirping outside the window, and the rising and falling of Draco’s chest. My head lays just beneath his collarbone, my arm around his stomach, and his around my shoulders. I know I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be allowing myself to bask in his warmth, but I can’t bring myself to move. Instead, my fingers brush along his exposed stomach, where his shirt has ridden up, and they toy with the the edge of the silk. 

I smile against him, and close my eyes humming, the events of last night just a distant memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a short chapter, but I plan on writing another one today (hopefully). Also, as always, I’m a thot for comments.


	7. Chapter 7

Waking, I feel weight on my chest, and look down to see Harry peacefully sleeping there. I smile, but slide out of the bed, careful not to wake him. I press my lips to his forehead and retreat into my own room.

Snapping the light on in my closet, I grab two sets of quidditch gear, one for me and one for Harry. We’re playing quidditch today. 

I dress myself and return to Harry’s room where he’s still sleeping. I toss the gear onto his bed.

”Wake up, sleepy head, we’re going out to the quidditch pitch.” I tear the blankets off of him and he turns and grumbles at me.

”Ugh it’s too early.” He buries his head in his pillow. In response I grab him by the waist and pick him up, slinging him over my shoulder. “Hey! Put me down!” He struggles and I laugh, throwing his gear over my shoulder.

I go and set him down the side of his bath and hand him his clothes. He looks at me poutily, crossing his arms, and I chuckle.

”Get dressed.” The bathroom door clicks behind me and I wait on his bed. 

When he comes out he still looks annoyed but slightly more awake. His mouth is turned down into a frown and I make a face at him, his face responding by a slight twitch in his lips, tugging at a smile.

“Come on, let’s go,” I say grinning. I grab him by the arm and drag him down to the pitch. 

From the broomshed, I gather two brooms and a snitch. When I walk back into the field I toss one of the brooms to Harry and release the snitch. 

“I trust you know the rules of this game, whoever gets the snitch first wins.”

”Yup, this shouldn’t be too difficult.” We both mount our brooms and lift off the ground and into the air. 

We dwindle around opposites ends of the pitch for a while before I notice a little glimmer of gold, just behind Harry’s mop of hair. I casually move closer to him, making sure I look as though I want to say something. Suddenly, I blast off behind him and after the snitch. He realizes his mistake and chases off after me. We flit aggressively through the sky, the little golden ball just in sight. We’re neck to neck, only inches away. Both of our hands reach out expectantly. The snitch takes a dive towards the ground and we speed just inches above the grass. 

I nudge him with my shoulder hoping to distract him, when he suddenly slams into me, sending both of us tumbling off our brooms. We stop rolling a few feet away, Harry’s body pressed against mine. 

Harry breathes raggedly and heavily staring down at me. I gulp and try to catch my breath. My eyes wander over his face, stopping on his lips. His hands lay just above my head. We’re so close. It would only be an inch, to close the gap. His hot breath ghosts over my neck making my face tingle, and for a second I think he’s going to kiss me. But he doesn’t. Instead, he rolls off of me and stands, helping me to my feet. 

I notice a fluttering of wings coming from his grasp, and he opens his hand smirking. 

“I win.” My mouth grapes and I shove him playfully. 

“Oh you suck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to be posting a a series of shorter chapters for a little bit, since I have a really packed schedule.


	8. Chapter 8

After the match, we part ways, Draco having to have a private lunch meeting with an executive director of something or other. I shuffle off to my room and settle down at my desk. 

Pulling out a piece of parchment paper and a quill, I jot  _Official Report_ at the top of it. Kingsley will being expecting this within the next day. I make a bullet mark and begin scratching down observations from the past few days  

  * _Disliked his father, cold and abusive._
  * _Enjoys painting._
  * _Allows servants and maids to see him change._
  * _Diverse reader_ _._
  * _Courteous._
  * _Caring._



For a moment I debate whether I should write gay, but it just feels so personal. I decide on the truth, but not the whole one. 

  * _Doesn’t plan to take anyone as Queen._



I sign my name at the bottom and fold up the parchment. I insert it into an envelope and step over to the window. The lock clicks beneath my fingertips and I push it open. An owl appears on the ledge and I tie it to his little leg. 

“Kingsley Shacklebolt, please.” He takes off into the air and I close the window behind him. Shakily, I sit on the bed. I feel as though I’ve done something wrong. Draco’s face appears in my head smiling at me, comforting me. I bury my face in my hands and sigh. This is my job, I can’t help it. I roll back my shoulders and relax them, before reaching to grab The Count of Monte Cristo off of my bedside table. I lean back into my pillows and open to the first page. 

_On the 24th of February, 1810, the lookout at..._

* * *

 

**Draco’s POV**

After my “fascinating” business lunch, I trudge upstairs. Assuming Harry is in his room, I knock. No response. I push open the door and peer in. Harry has fallen asleep on his bed, a book on his chest. My feet move me towards his side and I take the book from his grasp. He’s nearly halfway through, an impressive feat for such an advanced book. I nudge a piece of parchment in it and rest it on his bedside table. 

Pushing his hair off of his forehead, my thumb traces his lightning shaped scar. I run my fingertips through his soft, if not messy, hair.

His eyelids begin to flutter open and I withdraw my hand. 

“Draco?” He peers up at me. 

“It’s time to wake up from your nap, we’ve got a ball to prepare for.”

”A ball?” He mumbles, rubbing his eyes. 

“Yeah, hosted by the Queen. Her executive director of entertainment envited me earlier.” Harry bolts up. 

“The Queen?!” His eyes widen as I nod. 

“Yes, the Queen. Now come on, we have to get dressed.” He throws aside the blankets and excitedly leaps towards the door. I trail after him and into my closet. 

“Nothing too extravagant, and I want you wearing something from in here.” He nods vigorously. “Also, I believe Wizarding robes will be a bit too... informal, in this muggle environment.”

He pulls out a light grey suit for me and pairs it with a light blue tie, and then pulls out a black suit for him with a green tie, just what he wore to the dinner the other day. He dresses in the bathroom while I dress in the closet, and we enter the bedroom at the same time. We sit on my bed and I tell him he basics of the gala. 

“Basically, I’m going to have to dance with all the eligible bachelorettes within ten years of my age, and you should find a suitable dancing partner as well, be it man or woman. Just don’t sit down alone, always have company. And please, I beg of you, eat respectfully.” He nods, but pales a bit at the last part, and I place my hand on top of his. 

“Why does it bother you when I talk about your eating habits?”

”No reason... I’ve just had issues with eating before.” He hangs his head. 

“Like, an eating disorder?”

”No, my aunt and uncle wouldn’t feed me at times. I learned to take as much food when I could because I might not get any later.”

”Your family starved you?” He chuckles at this silently. 

“I’d hardly call them family. My parents were murdered when I was young and they were forced to take me in. They made me sleep in the cupboard under the stairs.” I look at him with sadness and squeeze his hand, not sure of how to respond. “That’s how I got this,” he continues, pointing at his forehead with his other hand. “The murderous bastard thought it would humorous to mark me.” His face reddens slightly, and a tear falls from his brilliantly green eye. 

I reach my hand up to his cheek and wipe it away, pushing his chin up. He looks at me and I tuck a curly strand of hair behind his ear. My hand slides to his shoulder and I pull him close to me, hugging him. His arms wrap around my sides and for many moments we stay there, my nose buried in his soft curls, and his buried in the crook of my neck.

I inhale and sigh, the minty scent of his shampoo filling my nostrils. I don’t want to move and break this moment, his warmth calming me. Instead I lean back against my pillows and allow him to curl into my body. I expect him to withdraw from me, but within moments a light snoring sound can be heard coming from him, and only a few seconds later it’s heard from me. It’s funny how only hours before, we’d woken up together, and now for a second time we drift off together.  

 


End file.
